


The Summit of the Stairs

by emungere



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/pseuds/emungere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas in the ruins of the Lecter estate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Summit of the Stairs

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Eliot's The Waste Land

Will's rented Opel minivan succumbed to mud and slushy snow half a mile from his destination. He got out and looked at the back tire that was still gradually subsiding into the hole it had dug for itself. His cell phone was down to one bar of reception. He tried the emergency number for the rental agency with little hope. Between crackling static and silence, a recording informed him of their Christmas hours and that in the case of a true emergency he should contact the police. 

He got his coat and bag and set off on foot. 

The Lecter estate eased into view by pieces in the lowering dusk: a broken stone wall, one crumbling turret, an apple orchard so long untended that it had grown into a small tangled forest of gnarled branches and trees that leaned toward each other to block out all light from above. 

The gate, when he reached it, was locked, but the wall on either side had fallen so low that he could clear it in one step. He saw tracks in the snow ahead of him and smoke rising from one chimney. 

The owner of the footprints had wiped his feet at the door, but enough damp remained on his shoes for Will to track him through the house to kitchen. Hannibal stood at a wood burning stove, coat draped over a counter, bag of groceries on the floor at his feet. He wore jeans, a black sweater, and a black knit cap on his head. 

"Should I ask who you're having for dinner?" Will said. 

Hannibal turned slowly. For a few long seconds he was so still that the sudden heave of his chest as he breathed in seemed to shake him all over. He studied Will with an avid gaze, as if he was as unsure of Will's reality as Will was of his. 

"No meat," he said, at last. "Not on Christmas." He took one step forward. "It will be poor fare, but you are welcome to join me." 

Will considered the gun in his pocket, the logistics of getting Hannibal home to stand trial, the possibility of killing him here, now, where he had been born. The chase had stretched so long that Will no longer knew what he would do without it. He didn't know how to move forward without Hannibal in front of him, leading the way. 

He took off his jacket and hung it on a hook by the door. "You'll have to give me a tour later. I've only seen the floorplans."

"How did you know I would be here?" 

"I didn't. I just had to see it."

"I have walked with you often here, in my mind."

"My inner voice still sounds like you."

"You're always one step behind me."

"I hear you in my head, telling me where to look." 

"Perhaps it would be easier for both of us to stay in one place for a time." 

Will came closer and warmed his hands at the stove. "Yeah. Maybe it would."


End file.
